The Wish
by FlightlessTree
Summary: King Lucien is dead, and now it is time for the Hero of Bowerstone to make a long awaited wish.


**This is my first attempt at writing fan fiction of any kind! It's kind of a short analysis on the psychology of Sparrow's 'sidekicks', with a main focus on Reaver. Feedback is appreciated! **

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"And it still has the power to grant one wish: yours. Come, take my hand."

And with that, Theresa and Sparrow disappeared in a flash of light, leaving the three Heros to stare at each other in mild confusion. Garth furrowed his brow in concern, as always. Hammer shivered while her heart gradually pumped away the last of the adrenaline. Reaver stood tall and wore a smirk, silently triumphant that it was _his_ Dragonstomper which finished the troublesome despot while the Hero of Bowerstone hesitated stupidly.

The pirate opened his mouth, ready to vocalize some quip, but the disembodied voice of Theresa spoke first. "Make a wish, Sparrow, but choose wisely, for it will affect all of Albion."

The trio exchanged looks. What could come of this?

"Sacrifice: you may choose to revive all those who died in the Spire's making. Love: those closest to you, your family, even your faithful dog, will be restored to life. Or Wealth: more gold than you can imagine, to spend on whatever pleases you."

"I..." Sparrow's voice was soft. "I don't... know..." The Hero sounded distraught, conflicted.

"Why, it's _obvious_, dear! Choose Wealth." Reaver suggested cheerfully, though Sparrow's lack of reply indicated that perhaps his comment went unheard.

Well, not unheard by Garth and Hammer. The Mage gave an exasperated sigh. The Warrior looked like she was about to give Reaver a beating. If she tried anything of the sort, Reaver would be obligated to put a bullet in her brain (a thought which made him smile). Instead, Hammer opted to shout. "Of course _you_ would pick that, you wretched monster! Why, I feel quite temped to punch you all the way to-"

"Hammer." Garth's voice was firm. "Now is not the time to be screaming threats and insults. This wish is not Reaver's, and it's not yours or mine, either. Our only job right now is to respect whatever decision Sparrow choses to make."

"It's not my respect for _Sparrow_ that's the problem here." Hammer growled, her glare focused pointedly on the Thief.

Reaver shook his head disapprovingly, still wearing his mocking smile. "So _angry_. Hammer, dear, after all of this is done, maybe you should make a point to relax. I know this lovely little island in the south where the locals engage in the most _satisfying_ relaxation techniques. I feel that it would be _right_ up your alley." He gave a wink that was not exactly innocent.

Hammer first looked disgusted, and then she bared her teeth in rage. "That's it." She began to step forward when a sudden magical shield blocked her path. "_Enough_." Garth's voice was level, but there was no mistaking the angry undertone. "We just saved Albion from a delusional psychopathic tyrant and Sparrow is making one of the most difficult and important decisions of the century. Save the fighting for another time."

Reaver smiled charmingly. "Gladly."

Hammer rolled her eyes, stepped back, and crossed her arms. "Fine."

The three stood in silence for a few more minutes. The wait was starting to make Reaver uncomfortable. "Well, the _great_ Hero of Bowerstone is certainly in no rush to _decide_, it seems." He stated with a bored sigh.

"I would imagine it's not easy." Garth rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Yeah." Hammer's eyebrows drew together. "I have no clue what I would do... I used to think I would give anything to see my father again, but now... is his life worth more than all of those who were lost to the Spire? What about _their_ families?" Her chin trembled. "It would tear me apart."

A flicker of a frown passed Reaver's face. The cow raised a valid point. What would he have chosen? Not Sacrifice. It was easily the worst of the choices; even if the gratitude of Albion's people did give some benefits, it was simply not worth wasting a magic wish. Wealth, perhaps? It is what he suggested to the unhearing Sparrow after all, even if that was mostly just to keep up appearances. An endless amount of gold would make him deliciously powerful. The position "King of Albion" had recently opened up, and a bit of coin would certainly help in reaching that tempting ambition.

But Love? Dare he imagine it? Reaver thought back to his youth- his real youth, from before Shadow Court. He remembered her face as clearly as ever- he knew her deep, expressive eyes and gentle features more intimately than he knew his own home. He remembered how she screamed his name, not in ecstasy, but in fear. He remembered watching her writhe in the fire, but he only recognized the corpse as her's later, when he saw his charred engagement ring melted on her red and grisly finger. Love. The chance to get her back. So many questions ran through his head. Did he really want her back? Would it end the plague of nightmares? What would he do with her? What would she do with him? Things were so, so _different_ now. The world had changed. Reaver had changed even more. She would be disgusted by him. She would be afraid of him. Reaver felt a sharp pain deep in his gut. He was not so sure he would be able to handle that.

He almost flinched when the Sparrow and Theresa appeared again in another flash of light. The immortal barely heard them speaking- Hammer was rambling on and on to the Fourth Hero. Something about her dead father, being proud, amazing strength, Albion's eternal gratitude, blah blah blah. Reaver forced the unpleasant thoughts from his mind and put on a smirk.

"Yes, yes, yes, but what about _me_?" He whined playfully, happy to step back into in character. "What do _I_ get?"


End file.
